Undisputed Legends
by TickTickThunder
Summary: A group of USNC Scorpions must escort an APC containing prototype weaponry while being hunted by a tank-killing Scarab commanded by an insane Sangheili General. This is a remake of a story I wrote, but deleted.
1. The 67th

_Type-74 GIAG's, or "Gravity Gauntlets", to bring a slightly simpler term to mind, are essentially smaller versions of the covenant gravity hammer, but are far more powerful and destructive than their heavier counterparts. The GIAG's work in unison as a closed circuit, which means that if one gauntlet is not present, then the other gauntlet is reduced to nothing more than a very heavy brass knuckle. It is still able to break bones, however. _

_When the user strikes an object, whether living or otherwise, an immense gravitational field is produced. This field, when used correctly, can bring down entire scores of covenant troops with one blow. Multiple blows can have a dramatic impact on the ground, and can generate small earthquakes that can forge seams in the earth or even metal, swallowing small infantry units (grunts for example) and hindering larger infantry units (such as hunters). _

_But alas, the gauntlets have been shown to be impractical for human use. Only something or someone as strong as a SPARTAN have been shown to possess the ability to withstand the tremendous aftershock that comes from each blow, as a SPARTAN's bone structure is far superior to that of a conventional human being. _

_But there are no more SPARTANS, and the Master Chief has vanished with __**In Amber Clad **__on a mission to pursue Truth's carrier. Their location is unknown. _

_Tests involving PED's (or Rumbledrugs) have also failed with high mortality rates. The drugs ability to bolster the user's strength and endurance is what's needed, but the remedy's downfall comes with its horrible aftereffects, which include a destructive breakdown of the subject's mind. This renders them insane, and soon after, dead. _

_For now, the gauntlets remain within my office locked away inside a secure lockbox. I will be taking them to a far more secure location. Hopefully, this location will prevent the covenant from acquiring the gauntlets. God knows that we don't need any more weapons being used against our troops that are fighting to keep Earth in human hands. _

_Sincerely, _

_Doctor Jackson_

Firebase Zulu Armory 

0500 Hours

"Sir, I don't know about this," muttered a marine who held a clipboard in his right hand. "Command's asking us to send in two entire tank sections with no air support whatsoever, and no infantry support either. What if they get jumped by Banshees or Seraphs?"

"Private Millers, infantry couldn't do shit against seraphs anyhow, and what have we talked about in the past involving orders sent directly from the brass?" questioned a brawny colonel to the young private, clutching a shotgun under his armpit while trying to light what appeared to be a cigar.

"…To not question them, sir."

"And what have you just done, Millers?"

"Questioned them, sir."

"Nice. Don't do it again. There's really no point if you really think about it. Those assholes don't listen to anyone's bitching nowadays, and they sure as hell won't listen to me despite the fact that I've gotten assignments done that no other colonel would even dream of gettin' done."

"But shouldn't we at least ask for a small escort force of Hornets?" the private inquired.

"Those tanks'll be fine. Banshees don't stand an ounce of a chance against'em, and the Seraphs are busy getting their assess kicked in space, courtesy of our flyboys."

The private shrugged lazily then walked off to question another superior officer about a shipment of rifles that were reported to be running late. Several battalions stationed in the city were complaining of weapon failure, and demanded replacements to compensate for their lost arms.

Task Force 135 

Torris Highway, New Mombasa 

0600 hours

"_Big Daddy_ and _Zeus_, you're with me! Form up on the rear of Jackson's APC! _Iron Coffin_, _Hear Me Roar_ and _Son of Sunder_ concentrate fire on those wraiths! Watch the skies for enemy birds! If you see any, squawk and hit the gas!"

"Yes sir!" answered five individuals over the tactical radio of a commander's Scorpion.

A group of six M808B's exchanged blows with a duo of wraith tanks and a lance of grunts armed with heavy weaponry. An elite minor was in command of the lance, with said elite physically displaying its inexperience with UNSC tank crews by roaring ignorantly at the aggressive metal hulks that advanced slowly but surely up a large mound of metal that lay atop a section of Torris Highway.

The grunts, which seemed to be more focused on the attacking human vehicles, paid no heed to their supposed "leader" who was barking irregular orders at them.

A plasma round whirred over _Iron Coffin_, who quickly caught notice of what was going on and promptly opened fire. The round made contact with the mound to _Iron Coffin's _driver's disgust. The Wraiths were in an excellent position. While the mound provided defensive support, their mortars could pick at and eventually destroy the human tanks that were so keen on destroying _them._

_Hear Me Roar _attempted to maneuver around the mound, but was forced to retreat when a volley of anti-armor green plasma screamed forwards towards the tank's hull. It rejoined its comrades, who were laying down an impressive display of firepower upon the entrenched covenant forces.

"Shit! We can't advance up this pile of crap anymore! We're sittin' ducks! What do we do sir!" yelled the driver of _Hear Me Roar._

"Cool your jets and keep yer head in the game Shirley!" screamed the commander as he fired another round at the mound in a futile attempt in killing the obnoxious elite. Seconds later, the elite emerged again, throwing taunts and curses at the attacking humans.

"We ain't out of chips yet! Hit those grunts when they peek their snivelin' heads out again! Ease up the pressure on Jackson's APC! It's taking one hell of a beatin' over here!"

The three attacking tanks obeyed, and unleashed a salvo of 90mm shells when the grunts poked their heads out to bring doom and destruction with their handheld weaponry. Body parts flew in every direction when the tank's shells made contact. The human tank crews racted in kind.

"Hell yea!" yelled the driver of _Iron Coffin._

"Boo ya! No one messes with the 67th!" shouted another.

The shouts of joy soon morphed into muffled groans of annoyance when the blue elite minor emerged once again in its obnoxious fashion. It yelled and roared and pointed at the group of tanks like a hyperactive human child, its eyes bulging abnormally. It was completely oblivious to the fact that its once seemingly invincible mound of cover was nothing more than a smoldering pile of rubbish that even a lowly magnum mound could past through with disturbing ease.

The Wraiths had ceased fire; their plasma reserves had all but vanished, but they still presented an obstacle when it came to shoving the larger APC through the debris.

"What the shit is it doing?" asked _Big Daddy's _driver when the video feed from his tank's periscope reached his small compartment.

"Hell if I know, but it's pissin' me off something fierce. Someone clock his ass for me," responded _Zeus. _

_Son of Sunder_ granted _Zeus' _wish and fired its main gun at the ridiculous alien. The creature tried to dive away, but was too late, and perished in a grand display of purple gore and bloody appendages. One of its mouthparts landed on the frontal armor of _Zeus_.

"Son of a bitch, I _just _got this thing cleaned."

_Zeus'_ fellow tankers laughed. Zeus was not amused and broadcasted it loudly without haste.

New Mombasa, Covenant Scarab

Unknown Time

A grunt carrying a platter that supported some form of chalice scurried through the narrow walk space of the Scarab _Undeniable Justice. _This particular Scarab was a tank hunter—a human tank hunter to be precise—and had been ordered to intercept a human convoy that was supposedly carrying reversed engineered covenant technology.

An extremely religious Sangheili General (who went by the name of _Orm)_ commanded this Scarab. His unusual name further enhanced his ability to strike fear and terror into those who served under him. His personality was simple: show no mercy for the weak, whether they be friend or foe.

Day in and day out this General stood behind this particular moral. In many instances, the General was jailed for abusing his troops due to them failing him and groveling in his presence. This General was even personally flogged with a plasma whip by one of the two Field Marshalls who guided the attack on New Mombasa. He bore his seemingly shameful scars with absolute pride despite how loud he screamed.

The General was regarded as a hypocrite because of the loud sounds of pain he emitted as he was whipped upon the back. Surely the strong would not submit to pain so easily?

The Unggoy who carried the platter shook nervously as he stood by Orm's side. Orm looked away from the viewing screen that stood before him and redirected his attention to the pathetic scrap that dared desecrate his magnificent image. The prideful alien snatched the chalice from its platform without a pause, took a sip and viscously spat the black liquid onto the Unggoy's face—but not before the flinging the chalice at an unsuspecting Kig-Yar. The avian alien fell limp to the floor unconscious.

Chalices were indeed deadly weapons.

"What nonsense have you fed me whelp? Have you know idea who you are _serving_?" Orm boomed, bending over to stare down the Unggoy without remorse.

"I-I am s-s-sorry y-your G-Generalness! I was-was only trying to c-come to your side with p-proper haste!" stammered the tiny alien.

The General displayed the Sangheili equivalent of a smile, which horrified the frightened grunt even more.

The General then mused for a moment. He then lightly grasped the small alien by its masked-covered chin. Orm bent his broad head low so that it levitated at the side of the grunt's own head, and spoke softly.

"I understand," the General said." It was an honest mistake; a mishap, an error of judgment that all creatures experience from time to time. It was not your fault, oh no, it was—"

The General slowly raised his arm and scanned the interior of the Scarab's control room. With one outstretched finger, he sunk his gaze on a Sangheili minor who was watching the entire ordeal unfold. The victim's eyes grew wide and it backed into a small corner. The others backed away from the General's newfound target as if he were some sort of creature from the lands of the damned.

"—_His _fault!" the General squealed delightfully.

In an animalistic-like leap, Orm had the minor by the neck and had hefted him into the air. The new recruit flailed his arms, trying to loosen the General's godlike grip to allow air to freely fill his lungs. With his free hand, the General ignited his energy sword and held it to the minor's stomach area.

The servant tried to protest, but could not force the words from his mouth.

"Say something! Stop him!" the minor croaked barely.

"…Would you like to take his place?" the General asked the grunt in a playful and rather childish manner.

The grunt shook its head and exited the Scarab's interior to join the others on the deck. He knew what was to come.

The minor's facial expression grew sour and frightened. The General only smiled and thrust his sword into the minor's stomach. The soldier's armor did nothing to stop the blade's deadly onslaught. The minor merely chocked and gagged as the hot plasma scorched his insides, reducing them to cinders. Without warning, the General ripped the sword upward. The gruesome feat produced a pile of entrails. With a wet _plop _and distinct _smack_, they fell to the floor. The minor tried to utter his final word, but death prevented him from doing so.

The General let the minor fall. Stepping over the body, Orm resumed his station at the Scarab's view screen.

It was officially clear now: Orm may have been an excellent General, but he was far from sane.


	2. Advancement Down Torris

**Chapter 2 is finally here. Expect Chapter 3 to have a lot more action than this one. I almost fell asleep writing this to be honest, but you have to set the tables you know?**

Torris Highway

0700 hours

"We're stopping here for now. Ten minutes. Five to mingle and five to woof down a portion of the field rations you were given back at Zulu. Get to it tankers." The commander said, exiting his own tank with a pack balancing over his shoulder.

"Someone tell Jackson and his two bodyguards to get some grub in their bellies, too." The man added.

Six Scorpion tanks and a heavily armored APC lay immobile on an elevated highway that stretched for dozens of miles. If they could see it, the humans would notice that the highway divided into small service ramps and smaller tunnels that would no doubt prove too small for UNSC Scorpion tanks—or an APC for that matter—to navigate.

Without warning, the main entry door to the APC opened and revealed two men dressed in black suits. Dark sunglasses shielded their piercing eyes from the clouded sun above; communicators were attached to their ears, and silenced pistols lay at their hips.

The group of tank drivers paid no attention to the duo of mysterious men, and continued to chitchat with one another as if nothing had changed. The two men dressed in black suits descended down the APC's ramp. They were followed by what appeared to be a civilian. Said civilian wore plain clothes, which consisted of a leather jacket, a pair of common shoes, a plain hat, and a pair of denim jeans. He talked with his bodyguards for several seconds. The conversation came to an end when both armed guards headed in opposite directions, with one remaining at the group's rear, and another at the group's front.

The civilian went over to the group of tank drivers and sat down amongst them.

"So I take it you're the man we're supposed to be protectin', eh?" asked one of the tankers.

"Yes," the man shrugged. "Weren't you briefed before you were dispatched to my starting location?"

"Yea, I was just makin' sure. The Brass likes to fuck over tank crews like that. That's probably why you never seen more than one or two Scorpions in one location during an engagement. So many of us have died due to lack of Intel that we're a rare breed!"

All of the men besides the civilian infected the air with laughter.

"Ah you're a civvy," the tanker resumed." You'd never get it anyway."

"Excuse my men Doctor Jackson," the commander said, standing up while clutching a round container that housed a portion of brownish mush. "They can get pretty rowdy and rude during a mission. We're not used to escort missions. We're more of the 'hit'em on the frontlines' kind of bunch if you know what I mean."

"Yes I know what you mean," the doctor said." I was in the service. I've seen and fought alongside UNSC tank crews before."

The group's interest in the man before them sharply grew.

"For how long?" another tanker asked. "You don't look like you were in the service, and you sure as hell don't talk like it either."

" For over thirteen years. I was on Reach when the covenant came."

The tankers gasped. Even the commander looked surprised.

"I thought everyone died on Reach when she fell? How did you escape?" the commander inquired.

"That's classified."

The group's interest died after that.

"Well boys, shouldn't we introduce ourselves?" the commander asked, placing his container of food down on the metal surface of the highway.

"Commander Ackerston here to serve," Ackerston said proudly, extending his hand to shave the doctor's. "I pilot_ Buford's Tomb_."

"Name's Rex," said another tanker who casually stepped in front of this commanding officer. "I pilot _Iron Coffin_. I hate the covenant, and I especially hate their Wraiths. Most lousy tank design I've ever seen in my entire six years of kicking ass in rolling armor."

Another tanker stepped up in front of Rex. The doctor quickly noted that she was the only female in the entire group.

"I'm Shirley," the women said. "Youngest one here and pilot of _Hear Me Roar_. I hate my name almost as much as I hate the covenant. The only reason why I'm keeping it is because of my ancient mother. She'd have a cow if she found out I changed my name."

Two more individuals advanced.

"My name's T.J." one of the men said.

"And I'm C.J." said the other.

"We're known as the Ducken Brothers. We're twins ya know. C.J.'s behind the wheel of _Zeus_, and I'm behind the wheel of _Son Of Sunder_. Once, my brother and I—"

"My tank tends to kick more ass because my muzzle velocity is higher." C.J. butted in, leaning over his brother's shoulder.

"Bulllshit!" T.J. exclaimed, wrestling his brother off of him. "I've had _way _more kills than your ass has ever gotten! I've even taken down a Phantom!"

"Who _hasn't _taken down a Phantom?" Rex intervened. "They're as frail as shit. All it takes is three shots and the damn things go up in a plume of blue smoke."

The Ducken Brothers and Rex began an argument amongst one another. Curses were exchanged until Ackerston broke the bickering group up.

"Forgot those three Jackson. My name's Timothy McAllister. I'm the brain behind _Big Daddy_. And uh, between you and me, I've gotten more kills than all of these jokes combined."

"I heard that!" yelled C.J.

Timothy snickered and retreated to his original spot on the ground.

Morgon Jackson verbally expressed his pleasure in meeting the group and folded his arms across his chest. He knew he was in good hands, but something told him that the convoy's journey to the designated area where the GIAGs would be secure would be a long and hard one.

Scarab Undeniable Justice, New Mombasa

Unknown Time

"Honorable General, a human attack craft is quickly closing in on our position."

"What type of craft is it exactly?" asked Orm.

"It is a Longsword starfighter General," the copilot reported. "We will never survive a direct confrontation with it. If it so much as strafes us once, it could mean the end for us all. What are your commands?"

The General scuffed then said. "Guide us behind that structure to our far right. There is a gaping hole in its side. Slip the Scarab into it. We should be out of sight when the heathen craft passes over us."

The Scarab's hull vibrated as the massive beast maneuvered behind a partially destroyed skyscraper. Sure enough, an enormous enemy spacecraft soared overhead and shook the dying building down to its core. Support beams collapsed onto the Scarab, but the machine's armor had no problem in shrugging off the steel hulks' brutal barrage. The fighter passed over the area again, this time much more slowly, and flashed a search light over the building.

"When will the infernal heretics leave us be?" one of the crew complained.

The fighter soon grew bored and flew off into the distance. In a matter of seconds, it was nothing more than a black spec. The Scarab moved out of its hiding place and clambered down a ramp forged of debris. It edged towards an elevated stretch of road that led towards the heart of the human city. While on the road, there would be no human structures to shield the hulking titan from aerial assaults, but it was the fastest way into New Mombasa…and hopefully to their target.

Torris Highway

7.45 Hours

"Jackson, keep your APC in formation. You're drifting off course and lagging behind for God's sake."

"It's these controls Ackerston," replied Jackson over a tactical radio built into his mobile miniature fortress. "They must have gotten damaged when you and your men engaged that cluster of covenant armor and infantry a few miles back. Remember that plasma round that struck the broadside of the hull?"

"Yea. Anything we can do to help?" asked Ackerston.

"Only if one of your boys can repair an APC's control systems," Jackson sighed. "If not, then no."

Commander Ackerston grunted. Because of the small setback, their advancement into the heart of the city would be greatly reduced. Every so often, Morgan and his onboard security guards were forced to redirect the APC's path, which took precious seconds out of the group's already busy schedule.

Seconds were like hours during war. This was something Ackerston grew to understand.

The sound of aircraft engines filled the air as the group of heavy vehicles trudged onward. A lone Longsword fighter out of the skies at frightening speeds, roaring past the convoy. It circled them several times until it tipped its wing slightly towards the commander's tank. It then flew off somewhere towards the east, creating a jet of wispy smoke behind its two wings as it sailed like an elegant but deadly swan in the skies.

"What was that all about sir?" asked C.J. when the Longsword was finally completely out of sight.

"Longsword says there was a covenant blockade up head. Ten Wraiths, shade turrets, AA Wraiths, and multiple hostiles armed with heavy weaponry," the commander said lowly. "They were expecting us. We would have never stood a chance against a force like that."

"So what happened?" C.J. pestered. "Did that bird take'em out?"

"Yea, it hammered those alien bastards but good. But there's a problem now…"

"And what's that?" butted in Shirley.

"The fighter's weaponry, that's what the problem is—or was to be honest. 110mm Rotary cannons and 120mm Ventral guns can work wonders on covenant, but it works bloody fucking miracles on highways."

"So the highway's a bust then." Timothy chirped in.

Multiple groans of annoyance echoed throughout the radio channel. One tanker rammed their fist into the control panel, causing the connection between Scorpions to drop out for several seconds.

"So now what? We're just gonna shit around here and wait until a massive fleet of Banshees strafes the hell out of us or what?"

"Naw," the commander said." We gotta keep moving. The fighter mentioned that it was receiving reports from Marine squads throughout the city about a Scarab or some shit wandering around shooting anything that looked even _remotely_ human."

More groans echoed throughout the channel.

"Oh suck it up men, we've been through worst situations than this!" the commander bellowed. "Now move it up! We gotta lot of time to make up!"

Scarab _Undeniable Justice_, Torris Highway

Unknown Time

"General, we have arrived at the remains of a battle."

Orm nodded and walked out of the crew compartment of his Scarab and onto the outer deck. He was just above the Scarab's main gun. The golden armored figure squatted down to a decreased height and scanned the area below his Scarab. His head weaved through the air like a snake's; the General's fierce eyes took in everything that fell into their stare.

"This was no battle, this was a _honorable_ slaughter! WEAKLINGS OF THE COVENANT DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU DIED IN HONOR!"

The General remained perched upon the Scarab's frontal section, cackling on about how honorable the smoking hulks below him were.

"Forward _Undeniable Justice_! Let us avenge our fellow warriors!"

The deranged Sangheili roared with laughter as the giant machine advanced down the highway. It did not halt to move out of the way of the burning vehicles or the scorched bodies.

It merely stepped on them, further adding to the gore that littered that highway.


End file.
